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TRP: Hansel and Naomi (Novads)
Gentleglen, Day 272, the day of the averted battle. Hansel was all fuckin' keyed up from not fighting. Other stuff, too, probably, but that was what he was blaming it on -- getting ready for the battle, then having Gavi talk it down. Was better that way, he knew, but it left him with no way to burn off the energy. Goro'd said those merchant might be relatives of his. Of Yehuda's. Made him fuckin' antsy about them being in Gentleglen, 'cause the city was a little more civilized than the towns that surrounded it, but they'd just had an orc army stomp up the their front door, too. That'd make anyone nervous, and it wouldn't matter to'em that it was another orc who'd made it all bloodless, or that these orcs where just traders. So he kept an eye out -- from a distance. Didn't want any conversation because he didn't know what he would say. Hey. You know that guy Yehuda? I'm his kid. There's a lot of other shit about me that's more important, and you don't want me in your family, but I'm there anyway. Sorry about that. Just a living goddamn reminder that people like us get killed for nothing. Just here to break open that wound. How's things? He needed a drink. Gavi was around keeping an eye out for them, and so was Luci, and he trusted Raef and Az had the same thoughts about the people of the city, too, and would be nearby. He took a brief break to duck into the inn. Got fuckin' overcharged, of course -- orc tax -- but he could afford it and he couldn't afford to keep being fuckin' jumpy. He picked a table in the corner to sit at for a bit, downing his whiskey. Freckle CoyoteYesterday at 3:23 PM The people from Shepherd Hills kept watching her. Naomi kept an eye on them, but kept her manner calm and peaceful. She kept looking for that shady little half-elf that came to talk to her, but he was hard to locate. She did spot one of his compatriots over by a table, though. He was easily over six feet tall with a cold, hard face and two tridents strapped to his back, which seemed like an unnecessary number of tridents. Did he use them both at once? Heavens. He looked like the sort of orc that made communities racist against orcs. Big. Dangerous. Naomi went to sit beside him, though. Curious. "Pardon me." IZZY Hansel eyed her. Well ... shit. Couldn't fuckin' get out of it now. "What." Oh, fucking nice one, commander. COYOTE Huh. She watched him a little closer now. "Do I, ah-- do I know you? You look... familiar." IZZY He took a drink to give himself a moment to think. Wasn't long enough. Fuck, shit. "Uh. Passed each other on the road, before. Think my fiance hung back and talked to you. Mighta pointed me out." COYOTE His fiance. The half-elf had said, My fiance is from there. This was the one from Shepherd Hills. At the time, Naomi had been extremely confused. Only one of them looked human... a dark-haired cleric girl... and she looked far too young to be engaged. The rest of them were elves, tieflings, and orc-bloods, none of which made sense for Shepherd Hills. "Oh," Naomi said faintly. The half-elf said, I think one of us might know a relative of yours. His name was Yehuda. "You're from Shepherd Hills?" Naomi said suddenly. IZZY "Yup." He grimaced a bit. He'd Sent to his mom, after they saw the refugees from town, made sure she and Leigh were all right with the Lady. Some fuckers had tried to loot the Lady's tree, apparently. They never fucking quit. "Sure was." He took another drink. Maybe if he fucking chugged it he could get out of here. COYOTE "If you don't mind me asking-- ah, what's your name, young man? I am Naomi. Naomi Novad." She didn't extend her hand. IZZY "Hansel." Novad. Fuck. Yep. He dithered between Granger and Bell because the first one was more familiar, but he was talking himself out of it. He wondered if Naomi would know Marion's surname, anyway. "Bell." COYOTE Naomi gripped her mug tightly. Bell. That was Marion Bell's name. Could still be a coincidence, though. Could be some other poor orc that Marion Bell roped into sleeping with her. Maybe she made it a habit. "What do you do for a living, Hansel Bell?" IZZY "Mercenary." Was this a normal fucking conversation? He felt like he was supposed to ask what she did in return, but he already knew. Seemed dumb. COYOTE Mercenary. It was unfair, she knew it, but she found herself tensing up. It just felt so fucking unfair. When Naomi was young-- fifty years ago-- there were no safe spaces for orcs. Fifty years ago, most places were like Shepherd Hills, not Skyport. She kept quiet, gripping her mug. She wanted to ask, Why are you a mercenary? But she already knew the answer. Doubtless the people in Shepherd Hills had been cruel to him, because of course they fucking had. Doubtless either they had thrown him out or he’d gotten sick of the abuse and left. As he should've. Then, after that, he probably took the first jobs available to him. So many orcs ended up like that. They were the children of mercenaries and bandits, so they became mercenaries and bandits. “That’s too bad,” Naomi said quietly. IZZY He blinked at her. Felt fuckin' judged over it. Defensive. It wasn't too fucking bad -- it was a good job, and he was good at it. Dangerous, sure. His mom worried about him out there, he knew. Maybe she was ... worried, was all. "Nah, I'm fuckin' good at it," he told her. Angled his head towards the door. "My family's watching your caravan, out there. We'll keep you safe. S'what we do." COYOTE She supposed he had a point. Still made her gut clench. "Right," Naomi said flatly. "So. Mercenary. That isn't code for... bandit? Never stolen anything, never robbed anyone? Just a mercenary?" She knew she was being unfair, and winced. She wouldn't ask other people that question. Still, she watched his face. IZZY Hansel shrugged and took a drink. "Used to be a pirate. Stole plenty of shit." He looked at her. Yeah, nah, that was judgement, actually. Definitely. He just ... kind of wanted her to like him, though. It made him feel pathetic, but he did. "Not anymore, though." COYOTE A pirate. Naomi felt the tight feeling settle and become permanent. It was a fucking unfair question, she knew it. Asking him if he was a bandit just because he was a half-orc. She'd had that exact same level of racism leveled at her plenty of times. She had been right, though. She had been right. She couldn't hold it in anymore. Blinking back tears, she ground out, "Are you Marion Bell's son? How old are you?" IZZY Ah, fuck. All right, well. He stared down at his drink. "Yup. Yup. Thirty-seven." Next month, but -- didn't matter. He bit his tongue. "You're my dad's family, yeah?" COYOTE When Yehuda was born, Naomi loved him the most. He’d been born with fuzzy black hair, and he loved having his ears tickled and his scalp scratched. He barely cried. He just watched. When he was eight or nine, she’d realized Yehuda would lead the caravan one day. He wasn’t as clever as his sister Chaya or as loud as his sister Channah, but he always patiently looked for advice and weighed his options before he did things. People liked him. It was so unfair, how orcs and half-orcs were treated. She knew that. And she tried so fucking hard to prove people wrong, to be calm and patient and kind. She taught her children to do the same, and her cousins. They would prove people wrong and show humans that orcs were not dangerous. They could choose to be civilized. And Yehuda. Yehuda had been perfect. She missed him every day, still, thirty-seven years later. Going on thirty-eight, in a few months. She missed Chaya, and Channah, too. “I'm Yehuda's mother," Naomi said. Her voice nearly gave out. "You’re Yehuda’s son." She already knew it, but she had to be sure. “You’re Marion and Yehuda’s son. Is that right?” IZZY Hansel kept staring at his drink. Ah. Ah. Fuck. Fuck. The tin mug was denting in his hand. He should stop it. Let it go. Say some words back to her. Look at her, even, maybe. The Bells lived on the other side of Shepherd Hills. It was a small town, with a lot of space between homesteads for farmland and grazing fields. A lot of empty space, but it was still an easy walk from one end of the land to the other. And they were young, the Bells, because Hansel's mom had only been seventeen or so when he'd been born -- not even in their forties, and that was younger for humans than it was for someone orc-blooded. Wasn't like it'd been hard for them to get around. They never visited the Granger farm. Things had been hard sometimes, just Elijah and Marion on the farm, when Hansel was too small to help out but big enough to know it was rough. The closest neighbors, they were a family with an elderly grandfather who took care of the young'uns so that the parents could work the farm, and Hansel knew that the Bells weren't laborers -- they'd owned a general goods store. Could've taken time to help their daughter, get to know their grandson. Hadn't, though. He never asked why. Always kind of assumed the answer had to be bad. After Leigh was born, Hansel finally met Grandma Bell one time, when the woman heard that he was sickly and came 'round with some home remedy for him. Marion had told her to get the fuck off their land and not come back. He'd never even seen his grandpa. The Bells had both died while he'd been away. The only blood he'd ever had was Marion and Leigh. Hadn't put much store in it. Put together his own family, instead, of elves and tortles and tieflings, and the orc and human blood in the mix had only been incidental. Hadn't meant more or less. He carefully pried his hand off the fist-dented mug and rested it on the table. Still didn't look at her. "Yep," he said quietly. "Marion and ..." He swallowed. "You're, uh." Fuck. COYOTE Naomi watched his face. He looked... unhappy, somehow. It was hard to tell; her eyes kept watering. "Your grandmother." Her hands fisted in her lap. IZZY "Yeah." His hands were going to fists again, and he slowly pulled them in to cross his arms. Okay. He leaned back, thinking. Needed a minute more to think about this. His mom'd told him that Yehuda's folks were ... good people. They'd put up with her incessant curiosity. And they were fuckin' peaceful merchants, anyway -- how bad could they be? Wasn't like they'd fucking abandoned Hansel the way the Bells had -- the Novads had been threatened and chased out of town. He had -- family, here, a fucking grandmother, and the caravan wasn't small. Were they all --? He looked at her. The terrifying fucking thing he was realizing was that if he had them, he could lose them. The fact that they might not want him at all was much fucking realer now that he knew these weren't some distant vague relatives who'd heard of Yehuda once -- this was Yehuda's fucking mother. He thought about Marion holding onto him, afraid he'd leave again. No coming back for Naomi's son. "Fuck," he offered. COYOTE She recoiled. She could not stand to look at him. He didn’t even look like Yehuda-- her sweet Yehuda, who was going to show the humans that orcs could be good and kind and civilized. “My Yehuda is dead,” Naomi said. “And I got you?” A pirate. And a mercenary. IZZY Hansel winced. "Yeah." And reflexively, he said, "Sorry." COYOTE She was being unfair. She knew it. If it were anyone else-- if an orc showed up, covered in scars, brandishing two tridents-- she'd pity them for being forced into such a violent life. Yehuda's son, though. It felt so fucking unfair. White-hot anger burned her to her core. She raised a hand to slap him, then stopped herself. She shoved herself away from the table and turned to go. "Stay away from my family," she said. They should not meet their cousin. Gods knew how he could corrupt them. Then she covered her mouth before she could say anything crueler. IZZY Hansel stared after her. He felt his gut clench, his lungs empty, felt fucking sick and angry at the same time. He wanted to crawl under the fucking table and die. He shoved himself up, instead, rattling the table so she'd have to look at him. Made other people look, too, at the goddamn orcs causing a ruckus. "No." Kept his voice low, said it in orcish. "You can fuckin' tolerate me long enough for me to keep you alive in this fucking city. You fuckin' know goddamn well what they're like." He jabbed a finger at her. "You're gonna be fucking glad me an' mine are here." Elitash'd told him one time that he got so fucking angry because he was scared. Got pissed at the people who'd scared him. He'd scoffed and shoved her away and said it was goddamn stupid, and he wasn't afraid of shit. She'd been right, though. She usually was. COYOTE She kept her voice cold, but patient. "No. We're normal people. Good people. No one is going to even look at us. I was being foolish, before." Yehuda had been good and quiet, too, though, and look at what had happened to him. Naomi blinked back tears. That had only been because of Marion, though. It must have only been because of Marion. Before he could say anything else, Naomi walked away, shoes clacking sharply on the wood. IZZY Hansel opened his mouth like he had some kinda fucking retort, even knowing that he didn't. All he had was the urge to fuckin' ... throw something at her back. Start a goddamn fight with her if she wouldn't talk to him. You ain't got shit for conflict resolution skills, Eli had told him once, calmly, pinning him as he struggled and tried to fight her. He'd just proven her right, swearing at her until he wore himself out. Naomi was fucking wrong. She'd been in this world too goddamn long to be that wrong, and he knew he was going to fucking hate himself if he didn't keep an eye on her caravan, but all he wanted to goddamn do was hide. People were staring at him, all nervous, looking after her the same way, and he felt so goddamn guilty knowing that she was just a normal, good fucking person, and he'd painted a target on her by causing a scene. Wasn't compatible with knowing that there was already a target on her, just for having tusks, but he still had this gut-deep knowledge that it was true. That he'd made things worse. Fucking ruiner, Hansel Granger. He wanted to be small. Just wanted to be fucking small, and not hurt anyone anymore. END Category:Text Roleplay